


Proud of Her Little Boy

by SmeagolMyNeagol



Category: Psycho (1960)
Genre: Gay Sex, Incest, M/M, Oh My God, Slight Incest Kink, Slight infantilization, Weird, infantilization, no actual incestuous sex occurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:02:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21542686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmeagolMyNeagol/pseuds/SmeagolMyNeagol
Summary: The motel keeper is an enigma. A delicious enigma.
Relationships: Norman Bates/Sam Loomis
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57





	Proud of Her Little Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Watched Psycho for the first time yesterday. I had already seen Bates motel so I was pretty into it. This fic is just a short little thing I felt compelled to write after seeing the scene where Sam grills Norman while Lila goes to the house to find Norma.
> 
> Yes, its weird. Yes, its filthy and full of little glimpses into my weird kinks. Yes, I'm not all that great at writing. This is fanfiction, not Shakespeare. 
> 
> Regardless, I do hope you enjoy.

The man before him was tall and angular. His deep voice made Norman shift uncomfortably. The prying questions about his mother, the motel, and his life had him nearing the precipice of his sanity, it seemed. 

Norman tried not to let his voice lilt in fear, tried not to let the man—Sam—bully him into a corner, but he found himself cowering farther and farther into the office, back pressed against the door as Sam’s sharp presence crowded him in, boxing him in stifling tension.

Norman swallowed. No one could know about mother or the things she had done. This man could not know what Norman had done to preserve the perfect world he had had with mother. 

The man was stuttering, eyes flitting around the room nervously as he tried to answer Sam’s questions. He just hoped Lila was making her way up to the house, up to this man’s mother, who surely knew  something  about Marion and Arbogast and their sequential disappearance. 

Sam wasn’t too worried about Marion, though he did feel bad about Lila and how she had worried over her sister. He felt it his duty to search for the woman, though he never exactly intended it to become anything more than a fling with Marion. He was sure she had simply gone away, to start anew. It was very likely, if the postulations about her taking the forty thousand dollars were true. Marion had seen the reluctance in Sam’s eyes, surely, and had probably just taken the money and left town to go somewhere no one knew her. 

So yes, he was here to help put Lila’s mind at ease, but didn’t really see anything fortuitous coming out of this whole venture. 

But the man in front of him, now  this  was something fortuitous. 

He was shorter and leaner than Sam by far, lithe frame and boyish features making him look like a boy rather than the man of probably twenty eight, or thirty, that he actually was. He was backed up against the door of the inner office of the motel, dark lashes from the tops of his eyes catching on the lower ones, lips stuttering around the words he was trying to get out in response to Sam’s questioning. 

Sam felt himself drift closer to the other, towering over him, intimidating him, no doubt. 

Shapely bushy brows upturned, incoherent sounds falling from Norman’s mouth as he tried to continue his answer, something about growing up in the motel, being happy as a child. 

Sam had to stop himself from snorting at that. This man was very nearly still a child, a certain fearful wide-eyed innocence about him that Sam wanted to  drink. 

He stepped closer to the shorter man, close enough to see the moment the delicious little thing stopped talking, seeming to realize how close they were. 

Sam couldn’t help himself, grabbing the man by the forearms, holding him against the wall as he swooped down and kissed him. Norman gasped, attempting to bring his hands up to Sam’s chest, probably to push him away, but Sam held fast, clutching the man and maneuvering him around until he nearly tripped going backwards out the office door. Sam kept his mouth on him, guiding him to the closest room. The shorter man stumbled backwards into the room, falling to the bed unceremoniously. Sam nearly leapt on top of him, not wanting to break whatever spell he had magically found himself in. 

Norman’s eyes widened as Sam approached, straddling the slender legs clad in out-of-style trousers. He seemed to take in the room around him, breath coming out in quick little wisps before turning to Sam in a panic. 

“Not here. Not this one.”

It mattered not to Sam. He practically dragged the other to the next room, room two, since room one seemed to be, for whatever reason, off limits. From what he had seen, the other man was quite an oddity. Sam would put up with any quirks just to get more of that delicious taste. 

Sam resumed his ministrations, surging down to meet Norman’s lips, which were pliant and clumsy. Norman’s slender fingers were stroking hesitantly up and down Sam’s built chest, shy and chaste in their pathway over the muscle there. 

Sam made quick work of their clothes, the red flush that spread through the motel keeper’s face at being bare spurring him on. 

Sam took Norman’s hands and pulled him up, “turn around for me, hon. Just like that.”

Norman pressed his face into the linens beneath him, and Sam had to hold back a moan at the sight of the shy man’s ass presented to him. He leaned down, parting the pale cheeks to better reveal the twitching hole between them. 

The first lick pulled a sound so sweet and surprised from the mouth of the man beneath him that Sam swore he nearly spilled right there and then. Each successive lick produced more and more sounds from Norman, until Sam pushed his tongue past the tight ring of muscles and Norman  mewled. 

Sam pushed deeper, wriggling his tongue in and out of the pliant body beneath him. So lost was he in his task of reaching deeper that he nearly missed the sounds the other was making, quiet little litanies spilled into the pillow case. 

Sam pushed a finger in to the second knuckle, relishing in the surprises jolt from the odd, charismatic man on the bed. “What was that?” He wanted to hear every sound that fell from that pretty mouth. 

Norman hesitated, breath hitching, before ultimately answering, voice timid and more than a little humiliated, “what would mother think if she saw me?” He said, repeating what he had mumbled into the pillow before into the space between them, the words said so innocently and with such shame and worry that Sam couldn’t stop himself from putting another finger into his mouth quickly and adding it to the hole, scissoring the man quickly, needing desperately to be inside him, now. 

The man beneath him was an enigma. His demeanor so odd and strangely complex while also retaining an attractive type of childishness made for a intense desire for Sam to have some sort of claim on him, to mark him in such a way that he was mucked up and tainted, innocence spoiled and ruined by Sam’s filthy lust. 

Sam flipped him over, turning him gently by gripping his skinny lanky arms and shoulders. He stared at the near-hairless chest beneath him, imagining his come painting the smooth surface white. Norman’s hands were covering the lower part of his face as his big eyes stared up at Sam through long lashes, framed by upturned brows. 

Sam spit in his hand, stroking himself until he was slick with it before gripping Norman’s legs and pushing them upward so they were pressed against the man’s abdomen and chest. 

Sam didn’t know why he said it. Maybe it was the lust clouding his judgement, giving the impulse to say something so dirty and disgusting, but nevertheless, as he lined himself up and began to push in, the words tumbled from his mouth. “She would be proud of her little boy.”

Norman's eyes widened, breath hitching at Sam's words, seeming to search the other man's face carefully, as if searching desperately for some form of confirmation to those words. After a moment, Norman groaned; he seemed to eat those words up, eyes rolling back into his head, hands still covering his face like a frightened child or a scandalized woman might.

Sam grabbed those hands, bringing them to Norman’s own knees, silently telling him to hold his legs in place as Sam pulled out of him nearly all the way before sliding back in gently, not wanting to hurt the other. Norman let loose a high pitched whimper as Sam began increasing the speed of his thrusts. 

The motel keeper’s cock was hard between them, swinging with each thrust. His feet were hanging above him, swinging also in time with Sam’s thrusts, held in place by Norman’s grip on the backs of his knees. He looked even smaller all folded up like that. 

Sam grabbed his cock, hand surrounding it, rubbing along its velvet length as he continued trusting. On one particular thrust inward, he must have hit something. A very nice little “ahh!” fell from Norman’s lips, and Sam thrust in again at the same angle, watching rapt and mesmerized as the expressions of ecstasy filtered across Norman’s face. 

Norman shook his head from side to side, moans and squeals leaving his mouth. He mumbled something again, the words obscured by the man’s stutter and the sound of flesh slapping flesh. Sam didn’t have to hear exactly what was said to know what Norman had just muttered. 

“W-w-what w-would m-m-m-mother th-think if s-she saw m-me?”

Everything about this man was  delicious. 

“She’d—uhhn—she’d be so—mmmh—proud. Her little boy—huhh—taking it like a champ,” Sam said between thrusts.

Again, that expression invaded Norman's face, eyes wide and hopeful, before he twitched, mouth falling open in a silent scream as he writhed beneath Sam, spilling into the hand around his cock. 

Sam took it all in, the perverseness of it all, of infantilizing this man by talking about his sick mother while he had him split open on his cock, the face Norman made when he came to the thought of his mother being proud of him for this, it sent Sam over the edge. 

He pushed deep and spilled himself into the smaller man. 

The thought of mother... being _proud_ of him, for this. It was more than Norman could take. The length inside of him was big and hot; it hit something within him that felt _so good._ Surely mother would be. Proud, that is. She loathed when women were near her precious son, just as Norman loathed the men who always came around his beautiful mother, taking and taking and hurting her so badly. 

But _this,_ this was different. This striking man was inside Norman, filling him in a way no woman had ever. His presence all-consuming, as powerful as mother's. Pushing in, maneuvering Norman's body the way he wished, _controlling_ Norman in such a way that left him dizzy. It felt so good to be in the control of someone else. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like he was being cared for, just as mother had, and still was, always caring for her precious son.

Norman let the thought--that mother would be proud of him--wash over him as Sam continued to thrust in and out of him, mouth opening to let out a silent scream of pleasure as Sam's big rough hand continued to stroke his manhood, sending him over the edge.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it please feel free to leave a kudos and a comment. I love reading them.
> 
> ty
> 
> -smeag


End file.
